It was already late when you finally took the shortcut through the old park—moonlight spilling through the bare tree branches, the pavement beneath your feet cracked and covered in dry leaves. The city noise had long faded behind you, replaced by a silence so complete, it almost rang in your ears.

You’d walked this path before. Once or twice. It wasn’t exactly safe, but it was fast—and tonight, you just wanted to get home.

That’s when you saw it.

Floating just beyond a crooked bench, lit faintly in the pale glow of a streetlamp, was a ghost. At least, that’s what it looked like. Pale, soft-edged, and drifting in slow circles like it was bored and waiting for something.

Your body tensed, instinct screaming at you to freeze.

But the ghost didn’t lunge or vanish. It didn’t groan or moan like in movies. It just floated. Calm. Oddly cute. Its round eyes blinked at you, and then… it smiled.

It drifted forward—closer now, just a few feet away. It tilted its head at you, its movement slow, deliberate.

Then it stopped.

Right in front of you.

Hovering, expectant.

You felt it in the air—something strange, like static and warmth woven together. Your fingers twitched. Something about it wanted you to reach out. To make contact.

A breeze passed behind you, tugging at your jacket.

And there it was: The choice.

[Yes] — Reach out and touch the ghost.

[No] — Step back and leave it alone.

You stood there, alone in the quiet night, staring at something you couldn’t explain.

The question wasn’t what it was. The question was:

Do you really want to find out what happens if you touch it?

Choose wisely..